


oh darling please

by weatheredlaw



Category: Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Biting, Bruises, F/M, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:17:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The field journal of Sharon Carter. Chapter one: how not to get bitten. <i>Unless</i>, he knows she would say, <i>you're into that.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	oh darling please

He'd take her for the kind of woman who flips the table over when she loses if he hadn't beaten her at this game so many times. 

"Your move, _Captain_ ," she says, and if that isn't a _bite_ then Steve doesn't know what is. 

Sometimes he forgets that she knows the rules to _this_ particular game better than he does, because she's so good at making him feel like he's got it in the bag. Seated across from her in the park, he calculates his next manuever carefully, because it could mean a world of difference a few hours from now. Everything he does has consequences with her, and he has been measuring them out and keeping track of them.

The field journal of Sharon Carter.

Chapter one: how not to get bitten.

 _Unless_ , he knows she would say, _you're into that._

 

 

 

So. Steve is into that.

He could give her some kind of speech about how it's going to fade, it isn't going to last, it's a waste of time -- but he's a hundred percent sure she wouldn't listen.

"So I shouldn't do _this._ " She closes her teeth lightly over his right hip, digging in just enough that he feels it, like pin pricks along his nerves and registering as pain in his head before she worres the skin around it with her tongue. He groans and she pulls back. "Yeah, I can see you're _really_ not into it."

She spends the night marking his skin here and there, showing him where he can do the same for her, even as his eyes bug out and he opens his mouth to say _no no I don't want to hurt you_ \-- which just gets him another solid bite in the shoulder before he does as he's told. 

 

 

 

Later, days later, his sweeps tongue over where he's bruised her, relishes in the shiver he feels under his hands as he holds her closer. "I told you you'd like it," she murmurs, and swings her leg over his hip, wrapping her hand around his cock and sliding down. Steve takes a breath, presses his thumb to a bruise over her thigh, acquired somewhere else, far from him. It should bother him, that she comes back bruised and a little bloody.

What bothers him most is that it _doesn't_. And he isn't sure why. 

He hasn't seen her in weeks and it shows, probably, in the way he kisses her, hands curled around her shoulders, pressing her against the wall. Steve wishes he didn't feel this way (no, not true, that's a _lie_ , he thinks) and he wishes she would stop him (no, not true, that's another lie, he thinks). Sharon wraps her legs around him, helps him shove the hem of the dress she travels home in over her hips while he pushes her underwear aside and hooks two fingers inside of her. 

"I missed you," she says, panting against his ear. He keeps quiet and still, save for the rhythmic push of his fingers. But she talks, she babbles and tells him things she'd never tell him any other day because _this_ \-- right here and frantic and wanting -- is when she is honest. No hesitation, nothing reserved and nothing hidden. "Please, _please_ \--" He presses his thumb to her clit and feels her clench around him. 

She bites his shoulder through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Hard. 

 

 

 

In the morning she's wearing it, perched on his counter top and flipping eggs, humming with the radio. Steve comes in and slides between her knees, running his hands up her thighs, over her hips and her sides. She winces.

"Mine?" he asks, tilting his head to kiss her neck. "Or theirs?"

"Little of both?" she tries. Then: "Theirs. Took it bad on this side. It's fine, Rogers. I took my medicine like a good girl."

He huffs. "That's why you're loopy."

"No." She hops off the counter and puts a plate of eggs in his hands, kissing his cheek. "That's all you."


End file.
